


Moonflower

by almostkun



Category: NCT (Band), WAYV
Genre: M/M, Moon, Nada Acontece Feijoada, Pining, Unrequited Love, but kun's perspective only, but they're just both dumbasses not realizing the other loves them back, introspective, mutually thinking it's unrequited love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:15:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22079065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almostkun/pseuds/almostkun
Summary: In the darkest hours of the night, his feelings have bloomed. His love for Johnny hides in the shadows, atop of every tree and deep under the river. It is quiet and silent; solemn the way only a stroll in the dead hours before dawn can be. His love lies in his eyes and in his words, that seem to yearn for Johnny just like the sea for the moon.
Relationships: Suh Youngho | Johnny/Qian Kun
Comments: 12
Kudos: 26





	Moonflower

The clothes for tonight's date lie on bed. Sleeveless and hoodie, sweatpants and sneakers. For most people, the weather is far from cold enough to wear more than a single layer of clothes. Summer is only a week behind, and flowers on the trees haven't even started decoloring. Kun's body disagrees.

The hot shower is now only a memory to his body and the window forgotten open lets a breeze enter and fill the room. Coldness kisses Kun's exposed torso and makes him shiver as he walks to the window and closes it. With a small moment of pondering, Kun starts to dress up.

It's not a date, he tells himself. Actually, it is merely a stroll around the river downtown, heavy on small talk and jokes, followed by a late night snack (instant ramen, most likely), that'd fill the air not only with eating sounds but also Johnny's complaints of the spiciness of the noodles.

If he's lucky, Johnny will buy them ice cream. One wafer cone to be shared by the both of them because Kun isn't that hungry but still wants a taste of vanilla ice cream and chocolate chip cookies before the night is over. If he's lucky, Johnny will be in a good mood. Not the usual tired and continuously slouching man just leaving a hectic day at the supermarket, but the uplifting and bright eyed man Kun so adores. If he's lucky, Johnny will hug him good-night instead of waving good-byes, and Kun will be graced with the comforting height of Johnny's arms around his shoulders and the inebriating smell of his cologne. But only if he's lucky enough.

Navy blue suits him as told by the man ruling his thoughts, and that's the color code for tonight. Navy blue on his sneakers and hoodie. On his briefs, too. As he slides inside the sweatpants (grey, for a change), a message notification pops up but he only feels the vibration in his pocket.

It is Johnny, he knows and smiles knowingly. Asking where is he, punctual as ever, or confirming where they would meet, as if they hadn't settled on a meeting spot months ago. Kun chooses to ignore for a bit; to message back will only cause him to be late. More than he already is.

Kun sprays perfume, dreamily—some that Johnny would for sure breathe in, on his earlobes, some only for the refreshment of it, on his navel—and puts on his shirt and hoodie. At last, all bundled up for a cold nightly walk. He makes a mental note to blame the regularly scheduled maintenance of the elevator for his lateness once Johnny starts complaining.

It is only when he's already outside, bare face with red cheeks harshly kissed by the wind, that Kun remembers to check his messages. His hand, after pocketing the apartment keys, grabs his phone and allows him to read Johnny's message.

_ Can we cancel? Not feeling good. _

The smile on his face quickly turns into a pout, taking its time to die. His feet stop abruptly and his brows furrow. Four times Kun tries to call Johnny, and as the number of calls grows linearly, his preoccupation increases exponentially.

_ I don't want to talk right now. _

Kun releases a holding breath slowly. His thumbs hover above the digital keyboard in circles. So many possibilities yet not one seems right. The only decision Kun takes is to cross the street, wishing for the other side to bring him shelter for the hollering wind and words of comfort.

_ You don't need to talk. We can stay in silence. _

Not waiting for any kind of answer, he walks firmly to the river. It's a long walk; long, silent and anxious. Seoul is filled to the brim with people, and everyone seems to be either heading to or returning from Han River. The main street is still alive, unknown faces sprouting from the ground and crowding his way; heading to the nearest (and uncharacteristically empty) bus stop, or to the dimly illuminated crossways, waiting for other kinds of transportation.

Focused, Kun walks his walk. His hands never leave his pockets, waiting for the buzz that will announce Johnny's answer.

It takes a little while to come.

_ I don't know... _

Kun's smile resurges. For a second, he can visualize Johnny's face while saying it: eyes closed and pouty lips, the sound of his voice almost tangible, rhythmical with a lingering childishness. Kun steps the last steps before his feet are welcomed by the sweet, fluffy grass of the riverside.

_ I will be quiet, I promise. If I don't… _

_ I'll buy you that super expensive sushi set. The 100 bucks one that you keep talking about. _

_ How 'bout that? _

The riverside is alive, and the main difference of coming to take a stroll at night is that couples prefer to be closer to the water and far from the trees as compared to the diurnal hours.

Avoiding the roots of the skinny tree in front of him, Kun sits on the turfy grass covered by its leafy crown whilst mindlessly staring at the cloudless sky. Waiting for Johnny, as ever.

Not a single star. Only the moon, and even the celestial body is diffuse in the dark blue night, fighting with the huge metropolis's lights to be noted.

_ I'll go but only for sushi… _

A small chuckle leaves him when he takes a glance at the notification. The wait is long and the only thing to entertain him are the different couples that come and go and pass by. Alone and contemplative, Kun wonders if he and Johnny look like a couple when walking side by side. If the cyclists and night sellers think they look good together, if other couples think they're passing-by lovers in the same way he thinks of them now, alone.

These meetings have become a common occurrence—something he can't quite figure when started. Just that every Friday night after work he was Johnny's, and Johnny was his.

For a few hours all they do is talk. They talk and walk, until their feet hurt and ask for a break. But the words don't cease. An endless stream of thoughts come out of them as they lay down under a tree or under the starless sky. They stay there until hunger or tiredness take over, whichever comes first.

Another thing Kun can't quite pinpoint is when his feelings for the other man started to change spectrum. They are friends; they have been for the longest. Lately, however, he wants more than just friendship out of Johnny.

In the darkest hours of the night, his feelings have bloomed. His love for Johnny hides in the shadows, atop of every tree and deep under the river. It is quiet and silent; solemn the way only a stroll in the dead hours before dawn can be. His love lies in his eyes and in his words, that seem to yearn for Johnny just like the sea for the moon.

His love wavers in Johnny, too. A courageous ferocity takes over Kun when they walk side by side and their hands brush against each other, compelling him to hold and never let go, only to be immediately erased and suppressed by a much bigger and stronger feebleness of will. He wants to scream his feelings and pour them all over the man that walks by his side but, in the end, he swallows them like a bitter pill.

His trail of thoughts is halted by a small kick on his heel. The smile that springs from his lips is instantaneous and reflected by Johnny, just in a mellower version.

Kun wants to talk. It's what they're used to. He wants to ask. He wants to take all of the badness that inhabits his friend and bring him comfort. Instead, he taps his thighs, inviting Johnny for some rest.

When Johnny lays down, his long limbs trespassing the tree's protection by just a bit, not only his head falls over Kun's lap but also an uncharacteristic uneasiness.

His love for Johnny makes home out of every silent moment they share, short and long, deep and shallow. Every silence is different but they all hold his sentiments the same way.

As Johnny closes his eyes and lean into Kun's caresses over his face, Kun sees the thick quietness of the night fall down and hug them tightly in a way it has never been. Its hug is cold, Kun feels, and Johnny shivers under the touch of it. Kun stops rubbing his full cheeks affectionately and looks down to see the man briskly rubbing his arms with his hands.

_ Non-verbal communication it is then _ , Kun thinks, happily undressing his hoodie.

He wraps it around Johnny the best he can, like a burrito overflowing with meat—that is, Johnny. The man on his possession smiles gratefully, his cheeks quickly gaining a pink shade, pressing their hands to it.

Moonlight scarcely lightens the sky; darkness coupled with the lateness of the hour presents them a little privacy. Under the tree, Kun ignores the late night runners and cyclists in favor of the man laying on his legs.

Privacy has a price, though, and that is unawareness. He looks at Johnny and Johnny looks at the river in front of them for hours. The sky darkens to the deepest blues and the city slowly dies. The brightest stars can finally be seen and not for a second Kun's eyes leave Johnny.

When they finally share a look, it is quick and shaky on both ends; the silence in it is thin and sharp like a knife's edge. Kun feels its pointy side on his guts, all the uncertainties and questions he keeps to himself threatening to come out. Johnny probably feels it too, deep into his wavering eyes, because when he returns to his vigil over the river, Kun can feel the dampness of his tears under his fingers.

He waits as it flows out of Johnny. There is no need to know anymore, just to let it go. Kun grabs Johnny's hand on his and brings it to his lips, to assure him of his presence. Confronting the moon gifted coldness, their hands are kept cozy—Johnny's held dearly inside his—as he joins the man in his immutable watch for as long as he might take.

It is darkest before dawn, and in the darkness preceding the sun Kun starts to hide his love like he's grown used to. When the lamp posts die in an omen to the incoming sunshine, the dying glow of ancient stars shimmers silvery upon the world but to Kun all they bring are shadows. Shadows under his fingers that rub Johnny's temples timidly; shadows casted onto them by the tree, encapsulating his love perfectly, in the sheer obliviousness and the blissful tenderness.

Kun gently rubs Johnny forearm and breaks the spell, deciding it is time to get up and face the awakening reality.

The sky loses the signs of the night, leaving it fast behind, and prepares for daybreak. The blue vanishes into a lighter shade, starting almost imperceptibly but certainly happening. The stars are still there but their sparkle is even more powerless than before, and the moon is even less brilliant, the opaqueness of its surface becoming less visible up high.

All of the sky gives way to the biggest and brightest star, that slowly rises.

And Johnny rises slowly, rubbing his eyes and fixing the mess Kun made of his hair. His face is the sight of tiredness and it urges Kun to call for a ride home.

When in the sky day breaks, the shadows vanish. The early day hours's coldness is overtaken by an ingrowing warmth. Runners can be seen again, sweating profusely even if a little somnolent. The street far behind them starts to regain life; a vehicle at a time, the city comes out of slumber.

The vote of silence between them doesn't break. Johnny keeps his words while waiting for the taxi home the same way Kun keeps his feelings.

When at last it is time to part ways, Johnny hugs him. Although it's early morning, the tall man has the moon on his mouth, smiling just for him one last time.

He leaves, but part of him stays with Kun. His hoodie, another memorabilia. The sweet scent of his secret love left on it is what keeps Kun awake enough to walk the long way home.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you have enjoyed! Good night ZzZ 


End file.
